Loud chattering erupted in the well of the court, and several journalists rushed out to grab the nearest available phone and report the verdict to their news desks. The judge waited until the court had settled before turning to the prisoner.
‘Will the defendant please rise,’ said the clerk.
A less confident figure rose slowly in the dock, stumbled forward and gripped the railing to steady himself.
‘Miles Faulkner,’ said the judge gravely. ‘You have been found guilty of receiving stolen goods, namely a work of art of national importance. Because of the seriousness of your crime, I wish to spend a few days considering what punishment is appropriate. I shall therefore delay passing sentence until next Tuesday morning at ten o’clock.’
‘What’s he up to?’ said Hawksby as Booth Watson heaved himself to his feet.
‘My Lord, may I request that my client’s bail be extended until that date?’
‘I will allow that,’ said Mr Justice Nourse, ‘on the condition that he hands in his passport to the court. And I am sure, Mr Booth Watson, that you will spell out the consequences to your client should he fail to appear before me in this courtroom next Tuesday morning.’
‘I will indeed, Your Honour.’
‘Mr Booth Watson and Mr Palmer, would you be kind enough to join me in my chambers.’
‘What’s he up to?’ repeated the commander.
THE CROWN V. RAINSFORD
The courtroom was packed long before Lord Justice Arnott and his two colleagues made their entrance at ten o’clock the following morning.
Lord Justice Arnott placed a red folder on the bench in front of him and bowed to the court. He then took his place in the centre chair, rearranged his long red gown and adjusted his spectacles before opening the folder and turning to the first page.
The courtroom had fallen so silent that he had to look up to make sure they were all in attendance. He peered down at the expectant faces and then at the prisoner in the dock before delivering his final judgment. He felt sorry for Rainsford.
‘I have in my life as a judge presided over many cases,’ Arnott began, ‘and in each one I have attempted to remain detached and emotionally uninvolved, so as to ensure that justice is not only done, but seen to be done.
‘However, I fear that in this case, I did become emotionally involved. It became clear to me after hearing Mr Stern’s evidence, that an injustice might have been done. That feeling was reinforced when Professor Abrahams brought his expertise to bear on this case. I and my colleagues were finally persuaded of this during the cross-examination of Detective Sergeant Clarkson, whose frank and honest evidence was a credit to his profession.
‘Although the real perpetrators of this crime may never be apprehended, I am in no doubt that Arthur Edward Rainsford was falsely charged with the murder of Gary Kirkland, his friend and business partner. I therefore order that the verdict of the original trial be overturned.’ A cheer went up, which only died down when the judge frowned, making it clear he hadn’t finished. ‘A judgment of this type should never be taken lightly,’ he continued. ‘I do not consider the jury at the original trial is to blame for the verdict it reached, as they took a detective inspector’s word at face value, and because of that man’s duplicity, they were never allowed to consider the missing page from the statement Mr Rainsford gave to the police on the evening of his arrest, with the result that a grave injustice was done to an innocent man. It gives me considerable pleasure not only to release the prisoner, but to make it clear that there never was, and never should have been, a stain on this man’s character. Mr Rainsford, you are free to leave the court.’
Beth and Joanna Rainsford were among the first to leap in the air and applaud as the curtain finally came down. However, the gesture that Arthur would remember long after all the fury of battle had subsided came when Mr Llewellyn left his place on the Crown’s bench, walked across to the dock and shook hands with the defendant. Arthur had to bend down to hear his words above the clamour of the crowd.
‘For the first time in my life, sir,’ whispered Llewellyn, ‘I am delighted to lose a case.’
Mr Justice Nourse took off his gown, discarded his wig and was pouring himself a glass of malt whisky when there was a knock on the door.
‘Enter,’ he said. The door opened, and Booth Watson and Palmer joined him in his den.
‘While I’m doing the honours, can I get you anything, BW, Adrian?’
‘No, thank you, Martin,’ said Booth Watson as he took off his wig. ‘I know you won’t
believe this, but I’m still trying to lose weight.’
‘Adrian?’
‘Yes please, judge,’ said Palmer. ‘I’ll join you in a malt if I may.’
‘Do sit down, both of you,’ said the judge as he handed prosecuting counsel his drink. He took a sip of whisky, and waited for them both to settle before he spoke again. ‘I wanted a private word with you, BW, but I felt Adrian should be present so that no misunderstanding could arise at a later date.’
Booth Watson raised an eyebrow, which he would never have considered doing in court.
‘I’m curious to know if your client is serious about his intention to donate his Rubens to the Fitzmolean?’
‘I have no reason to believe he isn’t,’ said Booth Watson. ‘But if you feel it’s important, I could certainly find out and let you know.’